From London with love
by solveariddle
Summary: Emily made a fresh start in London. When Hotch comes for a visit, things go utterly wrong. With Emily's life in danger, it even may be too late for them to work it out.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This is a sequel to my story **More than a dance**, but you don't necessarily have to read that story first to understand what happens here. Somehow, I couldn't get the idea out of my head what would happen next with Emily in London and Hotch still at the BAU. Will have a couple of chapters but not too many (I guess). Angst-ridden.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. This is just for fun.

* * *

**Wednesday**

It is an ordinary morning in London – cloudy as if it will start to rain any moment. People are heading to work, chatting about last night, sipping at their coffee to go. At this time of day, the Interpol office is like any other office as long as there is no emergency.

Emily hears her colleagues coming in. The door to her office is open as it usually is. She likes to work closely with her team, doesn't want to be an unapproachable superior. Of course, it is all still new. Six weeks ago she was part of another team. It feels like an entirely different life, and it was.

Nothing here reminds her of her time at the BAU, and this is exactly what she was looking for. She just didn't expect it to happen so quickly, hoped she would have time to say goodbye properly to her former team, to Hotch.

Hotch...

She remembers how she told him about the job offer, about her need to leave and start over anew. He understood, but at the same time, and most likely caused by her impending farewell, the subtle tension between them pushed its way to the surface. Therefore, they made kind of a deal. She would fly to London, talk to Clyde about the job offer and then come back and talk it through with Hotch. Implying that she would make no decision unless she talked to him. Save that she didn't come back.

The uncomfortable memories and her remorse set her into motion. Emily walks over to the window, but it's a displacement activity. She isn't really looking outside but only reliving what happened.

She was supposed to meet Clyde in London to discuss the details of the job offer. But there was an emergency, and the job she was applying for was already vacant. They were in need of support, and Emily told herself that it was like a probation; a good opportunity to test the water. She didn't expect to like it that much. It felt like the perfect new job, the perfect new _life_. Simply, the right thing to do. If an international emergency wasn't impossible to fake, she would almost suspect that Clyde orchestrated it all to make her stay. When she eventually signed her contract of employment, it was merely a formality.

Of course, she has to go back to Washington once again to handle all sorts of things. As it is, though, she called a friend who packed some clothes and personal stuff and sent it to her for now. Another friend of a friend needed an apartment and rented hers. Thus, it is up to her whether she wants to go through the trouble of shipping her furniture overseas or just buy new furnishings. It is astounding how easy it is to leave her previous life behind.

Except for the team and Hotch. She didn't _promise_ him not to take the new job unless she talked to him; at least, she didn't use that exact word. But they had a deal and she broke it. So, what she said or didn't say is a quibble, and her remorse is appropriate although she still tries to justify her decision, tries to erase the only shadow that interferes with her new life.

The team doesn't really need her. They like her, of course, probably even love her, but they functioned just as well without her when she was gone, recovering from her life-threatening injuries. And Hotch has his own life. He is not only the unit chief of the BAU. He also has a son and has even started dating again. Yes, he implied during their discussion about her wish to start over that he might not date any longer if she stayed and didn't move to London. Yet, he didn't say that. She only read it between the lines. So, when it became clear that London was what she wanted, what she had been looking for, was she supposed to let her chance pass by based on nothing but implications and assumptions? She could have talked to Hotch first, anyway. It wouldn't have done any harm. She didn't, though, and now, it is too late. The die is cast, but the remorse is always there. How can something that feels so right, feel so wrong at the same time?

Emily imagines that she will meet the team in a couple of weeks and make up for her hasty departure, that they will laugh and have fun together. Somehow, she can't imagine Hotch in this picture.

When she told him over the phone that she took the job, he was silent, much too silent, and she couldn't tell whether he was angry or disappointed, didn't even know what she preferred. None of it, honestly. They had talked on the phone several times during her probation, and he probably had seen it coming. Yet, it didn't seem to make it any easier.

"I thought you wanted to come back first so that we could talk about everything," he said, and there it was. An implication. They had to talk about _everything_. Or was she reading between the lines again? Assuming, and perhaps, assuming wrongly?

The ink on her contract wasn't even dry, and already, she was doubting her actions. She didn't want to do that, though, wanted to start anew without scruples and therefore suppressed all her doubts. This was her new life. It was supposed to feel good.

"I know," she replied, aware that it sounded a bit meekly. She was talking to her former unit chief, after all. "I didn't plan it. It just felt like the right thing to do."

He didn't comment on her explanation, and their call ended soon. Afterwards their contact was less frequent. Due to the fact that they hadn't actually been friends before she left, Emily knew it was only a question of time when they would lose sight of each other.

Or, at least, she thought so until last weekend when he called her and told her that he would like to meet her. On Monday. In London. He was in a hurry, didn't even give her the opportunity to ask whether this was merely a friendly visit because work brought him overseas or whether this was personal (and the very thought of it made her heart rate speed up ridiculously).

She doesn't usually stare out of the window at the beginning of every day, lost in thoughts. Her remorse is much more pronounced today because she actually met Hotch. Two days ago. And then again yesterday. It made her realize what could have been. Still, she is here, and he is in his hotel room, packing. He will fly back to Washington this evening.

Emily's fingers touch the window pane that is cold and soothing. She could call Hotch and ask him to stay – if only one or two more days (and nights...), but she doesn't move.

From up here, the people on the pavement are a miniature version of themselves. Nonetheless, she recognizes a little girl with a dog on a leash and a man, obviously the father, who is laughing and joking around with the child. Despite her inner distress, Emily smiles. Of course, life is complicated for everybody sometimes, but it feels good to imagine that this man and his family have no problems at all.

The phone on her desk rings, and she turns around to pick it up. It takes her five steps to reach her desk. On the display, she sees Clyde's name.

"Hey, Clyde," she answers the call.

"Emily," his voice is urgent, almost desperate, "you've got to..."

The explosion is deafening.

_This is close, much too close_, flashes through Emily's mind when it all happens at once. The window pane shatters into a thousand pieces; the exterior wall of the building comes down. She remembers standing upright when she answered the call, but now she is lying on the floor surrounded by dust and debris. She wants to move, but something is pushing her down, making it hard to breathe. There is screaming outside the building and inside; sirens are wailing.

Emily tries to think rationally. She should check her injuries, but there is no rush; she doesn't feel any pain. From where she is lying, she can see a patch of a blue sky. The clouds that were there only moments ago have vanished. In spite of what just happened, nature apparently decided that this will be a wonderful day. _A perfect day for a family getaway._ The random notion makes her wonder whether the father and his daughter she saw on the pavement earlier were already out of the danger zone when the explosion took place.

_I have to call someone_, she reasons and realizes with a sudden clarity that she is beside herself, probably has a head injury because now she also realizes that her vision gets blurry. Her fingers feel the phone she is still holding in her hand. _Clyde..._ She was talking to Clyde. It takes more effort than it should to lift her arm, but when she tries to look at the display, she can't make anything out, her vision too blurry. Yet, Emily somehow manages to press the dial-back key. Nothing happens though. The line is dead.

Five steps from the window to her desk.

Five steps that most likely saved her life.

It must have been a car bomb outside of the building. If she had still stood at the window, she would be dead.

As it is, she is alive. For now.

* * *

Hotch is in his hotel room, packing, when he hears the explosion. His hotel is not far from her office, and immediately, he is worried.

He turns on the TV, grabs his cell phone and dials the number of Emily's office. Nothing. Not even a dialing tone. The attempt to reach her cell phone is also unsuccessful. His call goes to voicemail. If this is an emergency, and somehow, his instinct tells him that it is, the network will be down soon. At any rate, his cell phone number is on an international list for prerogative calls so that, even if a network is down, he is among the few people whose calls will still get through. Emily's cell phone number is on the same list. Therefore, he should be able to reach her, and maybe, she is simply busy right now. Hotch is so concerned, though, that he dials Clyde's number next.

"Aaron," the Brit answers sharply. Although they are not friends, they respect each other and are on a first-name basis these days. "I don't have time to talk to you," Clyde adds matter-of-factly, confirming hereby that something happened, something bad.

"I understand. I just need to know that Emily is alright. I couldn't reach her," Hotch states equally unemotionally even though he feels anything but. The whole situation of the last two days has left him highly unsettled and tense. He came here to resolve whatever it is between him and Emily, but things took an unexpected turn, and now, the whole situation is more muddled than before. An emergency on top of it all, moreover one that involves Emily, won't make things easier. However, if this is an emergency, he understands completely that Clyde has to prioritize and be short-spoken. Therefore, as soon as he tells him that Emily is fine, he will hang up and let them do their jobs, help out if he can.

But when Clyde doesn't answer right away, Hotch is getting an uneasy feeling. Just when he is about to press the other man to tell him what the hell is going on, Clyde continues to speak.

"I was on my way to meet Emily in her office," he says hesitatingly. "We received a serious threat about a car bomb, and I called her to inform her beforehand just when the explosion took place." He is a professional, but his voice shows the normal signs of someone under high emotional stress. "She was in her office, Aaron, and the building is... It's gone."

Hotch is listening to Clyde's words just as the first breaking news flash on the TV. Not missing a beat, he grabs his jacket and runs out of the room. Emily's office is only a few blocks away. He won't get there by car, anyway. The city will be in a lockdown. But he has to get there, has to find her. Hotch can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to lose her – especially not after what he said to her last night.

* * *

**A cliffhanger, I know, and I have to admit that I have no idea as yet what Hotch said to Emily, ****but I will figure it out writing the next chapter. **

**In the meantime, r****eviews are very appreciated. **

**Thank you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thank you so much for your interest in this story – no matter whether you reviewed or added the story to your alerts or favorites. Well, I have to admit, reviews motivate me the most for the obvious reason that there is an interaction with my readers and that I get to know what you think about the story. Therefore – please keep on reading & reviewing. Thank you!

This chapter ended up much more sad and complicated than I originally had planned, but that's how it sometimes happens with these characters. Hotch and Emily are very stubborn, believe me... Hope you'll enjoy it, anyway.

**Disclaimer: **I own the storyline for this fan fiction. Aside from this, CBS owns everything else regarding Criminal Minds.

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**Wednesday **(after the explosion)

Time has lost its meaning. Emily is drifting in and out of consciousness. She starts to feel cold and knows this is a bad sign, knows she has to stay awake to increase her chance of survival. However, she can't control her thoughts, providing her with random memories, and soon the tiredness threatens to pull her down into the abyss of another blackout.

Desperately, she tries to cling to the one memory that helps her to stay awake. She has given up on the effort to free herself, has accepted that she won't be able to move because the ceiling came down and buried her. Therefore, if she isn't able to control her body, she will be damned if she doesn't manage to control her mind.

And suddenly, there it is. The one memory that dispels the tiredness. It is fresh and bittersweet, but at least it helps her to escape unconsciousness. Who would have thought that thinking about her reencounter with Hotch would serve the purpose to keep her alive.

* * *

**Monday** (flashback)

Emily wanted to pick up Hotch at the airport, but the meeting took longer than expected. Hence, they agreed to meet for coffee later in the day at a café nearby her office.

When she arrives, he is already there. She can see him sitting at a table, and her heart skips a beat. It is weird, meeting him like this, even if it should feel normal because they are not colleagues anymore. But they have never met outside of work before. Not the two of them alone. It would have been inappropriate, and somehow, it still feels that way.

Hotch spots her and stands up to greet Emily when she approaches the table. There is a brief, odd moment of unease. Emily almost expects Hotch to embrace her, his body leaning toward her, but then the moment is over, and they merely shake hands.

Fortunately, they find their way into a conversation rather easily. Hotch asks about the new job, and Emily gladly tells him about it. After that, he freely offers news on his son, the team and the work at the BAU. Emily slowly relaxes. It feels nearly silly that she expected reproaches or at least that he would make their first reencounter more difficult for her. Despite their personal conversation before she left the BAU and the fact that she didn't come back from London to talk the job offer through with him, Hotch apparently doesn't seem to feel the need to vent his displeasure. And why should he? They had one personal conversation. _One_. A moment of closeness that doesn't mean anything all things considered.

Therefore, it seems to be safe to ask the question that has been bothering her the entire time, "So, what brings you here?"

And there it is. Totally unexpected after the positive turn their talk has taken, relaxed and all. Hotch tenses. Imperceptibly, but Emily notices it, anyway. Within seconds, the eased atmosphere is gone.

Hotch obviously weighs his words before he answers, "You."

No business meeting, no old friend from school. Emily's thoughts are racing. Her former unit chief took an intercontinental flight to Europe just to meet her.

She realizes that she is staring at him and that he is looking at her, waiting for a response, but she has nothing to offer. Beforehand, she prepared some persuasive arguments why she took the job, why she decided to stay, why it all happened the way it did. This requires a more rational approach though. Even if Emily gave it a second thought that Hotch might address the issue that she didn't discuss the job offer with him before she took it, she never expected him to address the much more personal and so far unspoken and unresolved issue what this is between them. Let alone that openly. He came here for her. What is she supposed to say? How is she supposed to react?

Hotch is still waiting for an answer and lets her see it all in his face – sadness, disappointment, some anger even. They are both profilers. He could hide all this easily from her at least to a certain extent. They know each other well. Therefore, his body language probably would give away one or two things. What he does, though, is intent. He _wants_ her to know how much the whole situation gets to him.

Emily leans back and exhales, noticing at the same time that this is her tell and that he knows it. Despite the tense situation, a smile flits across Hotch's face.

"I don't know what to say," she eventually admits. Well, he for sure already figured that out. The silence between them is starting to get uncomfortable, and she knows that she has to come up with something else. If only it wasn't so difficult to phrase her feelings. Because this is what it is about. Feelings. Hotch knew what she did and most likely understands rationally why she did it. He just can't accept it emotionally. And this is a scenario she didn't expect to take place. Never in a million years.

_Or perhaps you did expect it_, her nagging inner voice tells her. _And you repressed it because now the decision is up to you._

"I'm sorry," Emily says – basically to interrupt the silence but also because these words are the only ones in her head momentarily. She's sorry, and she doesn't exactly know about what. Emily tries to explain it, anyway, "I know we had a deal, and I broke it. It felt... right to do it when I took the job, but please don't think that I forgot our discussion before I left or that I don't wish things would have happened differently."

Hotch studies her for a moment and then responds very calmly, "If you really wished that, you would have come back to talk to me before you took the job."

He is controlled, as usual, but his eyes give his inner turmoil away. His pupils are almost black. She has never seen him that angry and can't help but stare at him stunned because this anger, this deep emotion, is directed solely at her. Are they really having this conversation? This is Hotch. Her boss. Well, her former boss. It is still difficult for her, though, to think of him as anyone else than her unit chief. And he is practically accusing her of... ditching him even if they never even came close to having that kind of relationship.

She knows she should be flattered and happy because he finally gathered the courage to address what had been under the surface much too long, but all she feels is pressure. As if he caught her off-guard on purpose and is driving her into a corner. As if she is supposed to be the one to take the blame. Once more. And this is a part she doesn't plan to enact in her life ever again. For crying out loud, it's one of the reasons she left the BAU and came here.

Emily remembers why she took the job, how she realized that it was a chance too good to let it pass by, how she pondered on the rest of the team and Hotch having their own lives. She calms down inside, feels the pressure retreat. There is nothing she is guilty of.

"I know I said we would talk before I took the job," she states composed, "but sometimes there are chances in life that are too good to let them slip away, and this job, this life here, is one of them. It didn't feel as if my absence would leave that much of a void."

Only when she sees how he flinches, she realizes that it is not true. Of course not. Her absence left a void. Hotch misses her. That's why he is here. She misses him, too, but she never actually allowed herself to feel it until now. The urge to reach out and touch him, reassure him that she never meant to hurt him, is almost overwhelming.

The air between them is thick with unspoken emotions and rejected feelings. What started out as a meeting between former colleagues has turned into kind of a lover's quarrel.

"How could you believe that your absence wouldn't leave a void?" Hotch hoarsely says without looking at her. He is not simply hurt; he is suffering deeply. Who would have thought that all it took to bring his feelings to the surface was for her to leave?

Emily doesn't want to fight back anymore. There is a difference between defending yourself and deliberately causing someone else pain. All that's left is confusion and exhaustion. She wishes she could have prepared better for this. Despite her well-known flirting skills and her age, she is an amateur when it comes to real feelings and long-term commitments. How could this whole situation get so muddled? At least, she decides, she owes him honesty.

"You and the team, you are all settled one way or another while I... I'm still floating, looking for my safe haven." Emily registers Hotch looking at her out of the corner of her eye. She didn't intend to expose her most intimate feelings, but somehow the confession slipped out, and she is astounded that it feels right to tell him this.

"We are all looking for this, Emily," Hotch responds, and it is the first time that he uses her first name. Somehow, he managed to avoid it so far. Given the fact that he rarely called her by her first name as her unit chief, it still makes her shiver. "Don't think that I'm not." There is no anger anymore in his eyes or voice. Instead, he seems to share the confusion and exhaustion she is feeling.

"What about Beth?" Originally, she didn't want to ask him about her, but the rules seem to have changed in some way.

"I ended it right after we had talked," he lets her know. Of course. She should have expected that. Hotch isn't the type of man who continues to date a woman while he is developing feelings for another. _A woman. For another._ Emily realizes what she is doing. She is rationalizing the whole situation to get a grip on it. The fact remains, though, that Hotch left Beth for her right after she flew to London. That was weeks ago. And he didn't tell her about it.

"Why...," Emily starts to ask the obvious but stops when she becomes aware that she already knows the answer.

He stuck to his part of the deal. They never talked about him leaving Beth, but during their between-the-lines-discussion before she left the suggestion was there that he would leave Beth if she stayed and didn't move to London. Apparently, he expected to convince her not to take the job offer and didn't doubt that she would stick to her part of the deal – namely coming back to talk to him. That's why he didn't tell her on the phone that he had broken up with Beth. He wanted to tell her in person when she came back to talk about the job offer. Save that she never gave him the chance to talk to her about it. Bottom line – Hotch didn't break their deal. She did. And right now, quibble or not, it feels as if she broke a promise. The promise of what could have been between them. The mere thought that she threw that away unknowingly almost causes Emily to hyperventilate.

"I'm..." The feelings threaten to overwhelm her; there is a lump in her throat, and she barely manages to get the words out, "I'm so sorry... I didn't know... I should have..." Emily is stumbling, searching for the right thing to say when it feels as if there is nothing she can say that will put this right. There is a contract with her name on it. She can't just leave with Hotch. And he can't just take his son and move here. There are always options, but by signing the contract she made it all much more complicated. Let alone the implication that she didn't care enough about him to simply talk to him before she did it. Misunderstanding or not.

He reaches out and brushes her arm to reassure her. The gesture meant as a sign that he accepts her apology. His empty, disappointed gaze tells her at the same time, though, that it is futile. What could have been once seems to be lost now. Bad timing. The story of their lives.

"Well, I guess we are both still floating, looking for our safe haven," he eventually says, his voice deadly monotonous.

While Emily is frantically thinking of something, _anything_, to say, Hotch looks at his watch, "Even if I came here to see you, I'm meeting a friend later and have to go back to my hotel to get some things."

His abrupt announcement to end their reencounter confuses her even more. He may be disappointed and angry because he expected another run of events, but he barely gave her the chance to stomach what he told her, let alone react to it. Why bother to fly to Europe and meet her and then give up just like that?

_This is not happening_, she thinks. If this is supposed to be their last goodbye, it feels even worse than their previous ones, worse than disappearing to hunt up Ian Doyle or faking her death because there was no other choice, worse than leaving the BAU because there was the prospect that she might come back.

They pay the bill and leave the café surrounded by an awkward silence. Hotch's hotel is in the opposite direction. When he stretches out his hand to see her off, Emily doesn't take it. This was meant to be a reunion and not a farewell.

"No," she shakes her head and steps back. "This is not how this will end. We have to meet again. How long do you stay? Are you still here tomorrow?" Now, that she finally woke up from her emotional stupor and decided that she won't allow whatever it still is between them to end like this, she is determined, almost barraging him with questions.

"Emily..." Hotch's face is a mask of controlled pain. "I don't think..."

She doesn't let him finish the sentence, stepping closer again so that their bodies are practically touching, acting so quickly that he has no time to step back, and she has no time to doubt her sudden bravery.

"Then don't think," she whispers, standing so close that her lips are almost brushing his.

For the split of a second, she thinks that he will kiss her or push her away or maybe both, but he does none of this. Instead, he just nods before he turns around and walks away.

Emily stands still for a while, watching him as he walks down the street with tense shoulders and a rigid posture. He may be mad at her for taking the job and disappointed that she messed things up in a way, but she felt how he held his breath when she was close to him.

Not all is lost. There is still hope. There has to be.

* * *

**Each review (long or short, praise or constructive criticism) is very appreciated.**

**Next chapter: More flashbacks when Hotch and Emily meet again on Tuesday.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you all SO MUCH for reading this story and for your support, especially the reviews. You are making me very happy! More A/N at the end because otherwise I would spoil you.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Never were, never will be.

* * *

**Tuesday** (flashback)

Confusion. That was all Emily was able to feel after she and Hotch parted on Monday. He had been so open and yet so distant that she didn't know how to interpret his behavior. Let alone her own behavior. They didn't even agree to meet again. His nod at the end implied that he wanted it, but Emily didn't dare to be certain about anything anymore.

Longing. After a more or less sleepless night, she checked her phone, but he hadn't tried to contact her. So, what now? She wanted to see him again. Needed to. The memory of him standing close to her causing her pulse to quicken. She waited until noon, and then finally gave in and called him. Once. He didn't pick up. Twice. She left a message, but he didn't call back. By early evening, she was mad at him and concerned at the same time. It wasn't like him not to get in touch and to leave her in the dark. Then again, the version of Hotch she had met the day before was someone else, someone she didn't know. Perhaps he already had left the country, taken a flight back to Washington and couldn't answer her calls because he was thousands of miles away up in the air. The thought caused her stomachache. Her appointments were done for today, and she decided that she couldn't wait any longer.

So, here she is, standing in the lobby of his hotel. It isn't her usual style to run after men who ignore her, but he crossed continents just to see her. Therefore, calling him twice and walking a few blocks to visit him doesn't seem to be much effort in comparison and makes them even somehow.

Emily almost expects that he is really gone, but he hasn't checked out yet and apparently is present. After she called his room, the friendly receptionist informs her that Mr. Hotchner is waiting for her – nothing in her facial expression giving away what she may be thinking about their relationship, about the fact that he doesn't come down but invites her to come up to him.

She doesn't know what will happen next when she knocks on Hotch's hotel room door, isn't even sure what she wants to tell him.

He opens the door, looking terribly. As if he didn't sleep at all. But also sexy with the touch of a three-day-stubble – Emily can't help but notice. Hotch steps back to let her in, avoiding eye contact. He even leaves it up to her to close the door behind her. When she turns around again, he is standing at the window, looking out.

"So, am I allowed to pull off my coat?" Emily asks in a futile effort to cope with the situation. This is worse than she expected.

She doesn't wait for an answer, let alone that he doesn't give her one, pulls off her coat and throws it rather indifferently over an armchair before she approaches him.

It's getting dark outside, and a light rain is drumming against the window, refracting the light of the street lamps. Emily looks around. His suitcase lies on the bed, half packed; the wardrobe is open. As if he wanted to leave and didn't put the plan into action. What the hell is going on here?

"Hotch," she touches his arm and pulls softly at it so that he is forced to turn around and look at her.

He raises a hand and caresses her face so tenderly that her heart aches. If she had the slightest doubt that he actually came here for her, this gesture erases it.

"Why are you here?" his raspy voice matches his dark mood.

Emily has seen Hotch devastated and broken before, but it is the first time that she, or at least something linked to her, is the reason for it. During the day, she has been thinking of lots of things to tell him. Explanations. Justifications. But there is only one proper answer to this question.

"I'm here to tell you the truth," she says. No explanations or justifications. She is going to confess.

At that, Hotch's eyes seem to wake up from the agony that surrounds him like an invisible shield. Emily touches his hand that still caresses her face and pushes it away as softly as possible before she steps back a little. She has to keep a clear head for what she wants to say to him, and this is not possible when he touches her like that. Hotch's gaze flickers in a wary anticipation. He is preparing himself for whatever he expects her to say.

"I'm not good at... this," Emily starts, implying with a gesture that she refers to the whole situation. "But when I thought about this... mess that happened between us yesterday, I remembered that there is, indeed, something I'm good at. I don't evade difficult situations. I may not always be successful in finding the right solution," she adds, aware of her past mistakes, "but I don't back away from whatever life throws at me."

Now, that sounded... wrong, she realizes, as soon as the words are out. Hotch's affection isn't something she would need to back away from. Anyway, he doesn't seem to feel the need to respond as yet, just quietly listening, almost as if he resigned to his fate. An opinion she intends to revise.

"God, I told you, I'm not good at this," she states the obvious, shaking her head incredulously, licking her lips in this typical automatic motion Hotch knows only too well, and he can't help but stare at these lips. She catches him looking, a nervous laugh escaping her.

"What you told me yesterday – that you came here for me, that you broke up with Beth right after we talked back then. I never... If I had known that, how you... felt for me, I would have never taken the job. At least not without talking it through with you or perhaps even not then."

_She never would have taken the job. Or at least perhaps not. _That pretty much sums it up. She simply doesn't know, thought about it again and again and can't say what her reaction would have been. Emily has been having these strong feelings for Hotch since forever, but she is also an independent woman and doesn't want to make her decision to take a job or not subject to someone else's approval even if it's Hotch.

"Feel," he says and catches her off-guard with his remark. "You said if you had known what I _felt_ for you, but I'm still feeling it." He gets closer to her again. "That's why I'm here."

He is still in a dark and brooding mood. However, his worst expectations didn't come true. She didn't tell him to forget about them. This is the reason why he avoided her the whole day. After her reaction yesterday, there didn't seem to be much hope left. He even contacted the airport to book an earlier flight but then changed his mind again after he had already started packing. He is neither indecisive nor weak. Once he gets involved with somebody, though, even if it's only emotionally, it's all or nothing, and this someone else has the power to break him. _She_ has the power to break him. He handed it over to her the day before with the admission that he came here for her. And her reaction, this mixture of confusion and rejection, nearly pushed him over the edge. When she tried to get through to him at the end, he didn't actually register it anymore, only reacted to her physical closeness.

"I wish I had known," Emily whispers. Everything she told him so far was very reasonable, but not even close to a confession. "I didn't, though, and I can't undo that I took the job, but when I realized that you came here for me...," she breaks off mid-sentence and takes a deep breath. "I want what could have been, no matter how complicated it may be under the given circumstances."

_I want what could have been._ For Emily Prentiss this is as close to a confession as it will get. At least for now.

"Meaning...," he steps even closer, mimicking her actions from the previous day, his dark mood slowly turning into sensual pleasures due to her nearness and their intimate conversation. This time, it's her who's holding her breath.

Emily swallows. "Meaning that I want this. You. Me." When he doesn't respond, she lets out another short, nervous laugh. "Come on, Hotch. Don't make this so difficult for me."

She looks down, trying to gather herself, just when he reaches out and pulls her toward him, closing the last distance between them hereby.

"You don't know how long I've been wanting to do this," he says, letting his hands drop from her arms to her hips.

"And this..." One hand slips under her hair to her neck.

"And..." Her lips find his before he can finish the sentence.

It is astounding. After all this talking around the subject, this should feel awkward, at least unfamiliar, but it doesn't. Somehow, he always knew that she would feel like this, well-toned and yet soft, and that she would sound like this, drawing a sharp breath when his hands pull at her clothes and find bare skin underneath, moaning quietly when he lets his mouth follow the trail of his hands.

There is no hesitation as to what is going to happen. They both need it. Sometimes talking is overrated.

His suitcase is being shoved rather rudely from the bed so that his clothes end up scattered on the floor, but Hotch doesn't care. He doesn't even care about turning off the light. Tonight he wants to feel and see everything.

* * *

**Wednesday** (flashback – before the explosion)

When Emily wakes up, her sore body makes sure that she immediately becomes aware what happened and where she is right now. With her eyes still closed, she inhales their scent and feels for his warm body under the sheets only to find him gone. Abruptly, she sits up, covering herself instinctively with the sheets as if there was something to see he hadn't already. Hotch is sitting in an armchair opposite to the bed, watching her.

"What...," she is irritated and as a displacement activity raises her hand in a futile effort to straighten her tousled hair.

"Don't worry, looks good," Hotch interrupts her, smiling. Compared to his behavior yesterday, well, at least his behavior before his suitcase ended up on the floor, he is another man. Confident and calm.

"Were you watching me?" Emily asks uncomfortably. As much as she trusts him, the thought makes her cringe.

"In between. Thinking mostly," he admits, becoming serious again.

She knows him inside out. And even if they have taken their relationship to the next level, and he has his casual moments, he will always be the complicated, overly worried, brooding type. Last night didn't change anything.

"Thinking about what?" she asks although she really doesn't want to have a serious conversation just yet. Her brain doesn't function unless she had her morning dose of caffeine. Her ulcer is in remission, and she is allowed one coffee per day. An allowance she indulges in. Let alone that she still is on an emotional high due to what happened between them and doesn't want to destroy this perfect mood. But...

"Us," Hotch simply responds, and only now, she notices that he is already fully dressed.

"You are dressed," she states surprised. "Did you shower and all, and I didn't wake up?"

The smile is back. Obviously, he _did_ shower, and she did _not_ wake up. A fact he seems to attribute to his qualities as a lover. And rightfully so, not that she would admit this and let him have the benefit of knowing it. However, she isn't able to suppress a smile either.

"I got a call," he explains. Wow, she didn't even hear his phone ring? Emily is starting to worry what else she might have missed. "From the BAU. We have a new case, a really bad one. I have to fly back today." He is serious again. Now that reality is catching up with them, the light-hearted moments barely stand a chance. No matter what they feel or what happened last night, they both have demanding jobs, not to mention that they are living on different continents.

"I understand," Emily meekly replies, and she does although her heart aches at the mere thought. She doesn't want him to leave, can't imagine a life without him, now that they started this.

"You do?" he is surprised but in an instant remembers who he is talking to and corrects himself, "Of course, you do." She was a member of the BAU long enough. Of course, she understands.

"Not that I want you to leave," she adds sadly to prevent any further misunderstandings, clinging to the sheets that suddenly feel cold.

"I don't want to go." Hotch stands up, walks over to her and sits down on the bed next to her. In response to his closeness, Emily's body starts to tingle with excitement. The things he did to her last night...

He plays with a strand of her hair and then bends over to kiss her bare shoulder. The tenderness in his actions is heartbreaking. She already knew it yesterday and even before, but this proves it one more time. It is not just affection, and it is not just physical even if neither of them dares to speak of love as yet.

"I want us to work this out somehow," he mumbles, his lips still nibbling at her skin, as she pulls him into an embrace.

"We will find a way," she assures him. "I will talk to Clyde. Maybe there is a chance that I can get another position in the States, preferably in Washington." If they want to be together, it can't take place here. Aside from his job as unit chief, Hotch has a son, and Emily doesn't want to be the reason he has to pull his child out of the familiar surroundings.

"You would do this?" She can tell that he is astounded about her spontaneous offer. Well, it's not that spontaneous. She had enough time to think about it after they had met on Monday. Emily doesn't do things by halves. Once things developed the way they did last night, she knew that it would be the only logical consequence if they both really want to give this a chance. And she is glad that he didn't suggest it, that he left the choice up to her.

"Yes," Emily confirms emphatically, "I would do it. All the more because you didn't ask me to do it. Thank you for that." She kisses him, and he pushes her softly back onto the mattress.

"You are already dressed and I," she consults a watch," have to be in my office in about an hour."

"I don't need to get undressed for what I want to do," Hotch whispers in her ear longingly. "Give me ten minutes. You won't regret it."

She doesn't, but he gets undressed at some point, and ten minutes become half an hour easily. Emily suppresses the thought that anyone will notice that she is wearing the same clothes she wore yesterday. There is no way she will manage to get home to change her clothes and still arrive at work in time. Therefore, it's only a quick shower before she gets dressed hastily.

The situation couldn't be any worse. The moment has come to say goodbye. She is in a hurry, and he will be gone by the time her workday is over.

They are standing in the middle of the room, embracing each other, almost clinging to each other, and Emily feels the sharp sting of tears in her eyes. She doesn't want to cry, doesn't like to show weakness, but the up and down of emotions have worn both of them down.

"When will I see you again?" she breathes although she knows that he can't give her an answer. It depends on his work schedule mainly, plus on the fact that he has a son someone has to take care of.

Out of the blue, Hotch grabs her shoulders and pushes her back a little so that he can look at her. Then his hands cup her face, and he kisses her. Once. Twice. Emily tenses. Now, what is this? He won't tell her that it was a mistake and that he doesn't intend to see her again, will he? On the other hand, the way he is kissing and caressing her tells another story. Anyhow, she would have never anticipated what happens next.

"I didn't plan this." He makes eye contact and reveals hereby his emotions. Intensity. Rawness. Vulnerability. "I didn't think ahead of what would happen after our reencounter." Because he considered it possible, likely even, that she would reject him – so much she knows by this time. "But right now, all I want is to be with you and never let you go again."

Emily's thoughts are swirling. Of course, it is wonderful to hear him say all this. At the same time, though, this is getting dangerously close to a confession of love and even if she feels it, she is not sure whether she is ready to hear it, let alone say it back.

But he doesn't tell her that he loves her although she can see in his eyes that he does. Just when she thinks he will stop there and not add anything else, he does. Two words.

"Marry me."

* * *

**A/N:** First of all – I KNOW this is a huge cliffhanger. But believe me or not, I didn't expect this to happen until I wrote the last lines. Therefore, please don't yell at me for ending the chapter here. Emily has to think about the proposal (let alone that she still is buried), and I have to think about what happens next, too.

Despite the proposal, you probably noticed that I'm not comfortable with writing gushing love confessions. To me it's more real when this takes time because it is an important thing to say (perhaps the most important thing you can say to someone else). So, this is the reason for their hesitation to express their love even if they feel it. Somehow, I felt the need to explain this.

The current plan is to post the next chapter around Wednesday so that you don't have to wait that long. Meanwhile, thank you for sticking with the story and leaving a review.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Hotch proposed. Emily's life is in danger. There is a lot going on, and some loose ends will be tied in this chapter but not all of them. There is still more to come. ;)

Again, thank you all SO MUCH for the kind reviews and your support! I hope you also enjoy this chapter.

**Disclaimer: **I'm repeating myself here but... not mine.

* * *

**Wednesday** (after the explosion)

Sirens. Ambulances. Roadblocks. The area is cordoned off. Behind the barrier, Hotch is able to make out ambulance personnel and intelligence service, but mainly there is chaos, debris and billows of smoke. From where he is standing, he can't even see but only imagine the Interpol building or rather what is left of it after the explosion, the billows of smoke clouding his view.

He approaches the barrier, showing his credentials, although he is well aware that he is not in charge here. All he hopes is to get closer to the scene of the crime. He can't stand the thought that Emily is somewhere in the middle of this chaos. Most likely wounded and trapped helplessly. Otherwise, she would have already shown up. He forbids himself to think of anything worse. It is out of the question. Not when he held her in his arms about two hours ago, still can smell her perfume on his body.

"Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, FBI. I'm looking for Clyde Easter, Interpol," Hotch is as decisive as possible when he addresses the young police officer who secures a section of the barrier. He doesn't really expect that he will let him pass through, but it is worth a try. He is quite lucky under the circumstances. Another police officer within earshot overheard what he said and waves him nearer after a quick look at his credentials. "Follow me, Agent Hotchner. I was told to be on the look-out for you and take you to Agent Easter." Obviously, Clyde has been expecting him.

They walk directly toward the former Interpol building, and only now, the extent of the destruction becomes apparent. The building is not completely gone as Clyde phrased it earlier, but there are no outer walls anymore, and the upper stories are, in fact, completely demolished. Hotch tries to remember on which floor Emily's office is, or rather was, but he doesn't know. Maybe she told him, and he tuned out because it seemed to be a minor detail at that time.

"Third floor," he suddenly hears Clyde's voice. He appeared out of the billows of smoke and is standing next to him now. They are alike in a way – determined and loyal. Clyde knew that he would come, and of course, he knows what he is thinking at the moment. He might not be aware how close he and Emily are, but he for sure assumes there is more between them than friendship.

"Her office," Clyde adds even if it is not necessary. Hotch knows what he is talking about. "It's on the third floor. So, the good thing is that it wasn't destroyed completely. We haven't found her yet, though, but we will."

On his way here, Hotch's phone rang nonstop. The BAU team called right after they had heard the breaking news, deeply concerned about Emily, but he had nothing to offer that could ease their worries and promised to call as soon as he found her, spreading the same fake optimism as Clyde does now. Anyway, he highly appreciates that Clyde lets him be here. Given the circumstances, it is anything but a matter of course, and Hotch shakes his hand firmly and gives him a nod to show his gratefulness.

Two paramedics, carrying a stretcher with a badly injured person on it, go past them. Hotch can't even make out if it is a man or a woman, but from the hair and figure he can tell it's not her.

"This is a nightmare," Clyde states, his face a mask of anger and consternation. "So many seriously injured and dead already. And there will be more."

"What can I do?" Hotch is deeply worried about Emily, but since he can do nothing but wait for her to be found, he can as well help.

"You know how to organize a casualty for the slightly injured persons?" Clyde asks and Hotch answers in the affirmative. There are international standards for emergency situations like this, and his last training was only recently.

They walk over to a large tent that has just been set up nearby, yet with enough distance so that debris falling off the damaged building doesn't pose a threat. Hotch hears occasional screams, coming out of the building, and he wonders if he would recognize her voice that would definitely sound different in a situation like this. He would, he decides. He would recognize her voice or just her anywhere, under any circumstances. All he has to do is stick around and hope for the best. He can't dig for her with his bare hands even if this is exactly what he would like to do. There are specialists with equipment trained to do that. Hotch is doomed to stand by and wait until this horror scenario ends, and Emily is found.

* * *

She is feeling the pain now. Rationally, Emily knows that this is good. Not feeling anything implies a severe injury of the spine or impending death. However, it is grueling and exhausting to stand the pain without knowing how long it will take the rescuers to find her.

"Dammit," she hisses and clenches her teeth, ordering her survival instinct to kick in. She needs to get out of here. If only because she still owes Hotch an answer.

* * *

**Wednesday** (flashback – before the explosion)

_Marry me..._

Emily is frozen on the spot, speechless. This has to be a dream.

"Never mind," she hears Hotch say through the static in her ears. Not exactly what someone would, let alone _should_, say right after a proposal.

"Wait... What do you mean... never mind?" she asks, thus, confused. As if this situation could get any weird. "You just asked me to marry you. No, not _asked_. You kind of _stated_ it."

"I know," Hotch says. Even if it was a spontaneous idea to ask her to marry him, he is at peace with the world and himself, completely convinced that it was the right thing to do. "And I meant it, but I also can see that I caught you unaware and that you need time to think about it. You wouldn't be you if you didn't. So, never mind, take your time. We'll do this step by step. Just know that my intentions are honorable."

He could have put his last words into perspective with a smirk, could have lessened the fact that they are heavy with meaning hereby. Instead, he takes both of her hands, raises them to his lips and kisses them one after the other. His proposal. This gesture. Hotch does everything to make her realize that he doesn't talk about _trying_ to build something new together. He is dead certain about it; she just needs to say yes. Right in this moment, though, it is all too much. She wants to say yes, wants to kiss him, dance across the room and simply be happy, but she can't. He is right. She needs time to process all this.

The least she can do is embrace him, show him her appreciation that he allows her time and space to sort it all out for herself, show him that it is still more difficult for her to let him go now than before.

"Aaron," she whispers in his ear. At some point last night, he got her to use his first name rather than the nickname the whole BAU team uses. "I..," she wants to tell him how much she loves him. Not simply that she loves him, no, _how much_, but her stubborn, complicated self holds back even these words. He understands, anyway.

"I know," he whispers in response, "I love you, too." There. He said it, and it was easy. As if he already said it a hundred times.

Then they kiss goodbye, and she really has to hurry not to be late.

* * *

**Wednesday** (after the explosion)

The pain is slowly getting unbearable, and she has trouble breathing. Emily can't tell whether her injuries are that bad, but something is crushing her lungs, and she is aware that she won't be able to last much longer. She doesn't know how long she is already lying here. If she wasn't unconscious in between for too long, it's at least the same day because she can still see daylight somewhere above her.

She hears the rescuers from time to time and knocks SOS to get their attention. Yelling for help wasn't a good idea. The coughing fit that followed was painful and worsened her breathing problems. Therefore, she doesn't yell anymore and sticks to the knocking. Someone has to hear it sooner or later. At least that's what she tells herself.

So, she knocks, listens and knocks again. Whenever she gets too tired, and the dangerous sleep, bordering on unconsciousness, claws at her, she closes her eyes and immediately sees Hotch's face, hears his voice. _I love you, too._ She wakes up and starts again. Knock, listen, knock.

Suddenly, the debris around her starts to quake. Dust particles and rubble fall on her face, and she coughs and tries not to swallow any of it since she can't turn away. Are the walls coming down eventually? Is this it? A cold fear seizes hold of her. There is a loud noise, and something behind her crashes, causing the debris to shift so that whatever pushes her down doubles the intensity of the pressure. The pain is unexpected and excruciating. She wants to scream, but since her lungs are already affected, no sound is coming out. Emily is on the brink of unconsciousness when she feels the ground underneath her give way. Then her body is falling into nothingness.

* * *

Hotch wishes Emily would have been late, so late that she wouldn't have been in the building. The thought is stuck in his head while he is trying to occupy himself with cataloguing and helping slightly injured victims. He is aware that what he is doing is important and helpful, but it doesn't lessen his agony in any way.

The rescuers use more powerful devices now, and the noise is deafening. Hotch deliberately pushes away any thoughts that this way of searching for missing people could endanger them even more. It is a risk the rescuers consciously have to take. He knows that the machines are needed to get the debris out of the way, but the mere thought of Emily's body trapped somewhere in there while the machines are mercilessly working their way through the rocks makes him sick.

"Aaron," he didn't hear Clyde approach him and only notices him when he grabs his shoulder. "I told you we would find her."

Hotch looks over Clyde's shoulder and sees another stretcher. One of many, but on this stretcher he detects the familiar black hair and pale skin.

"Go ahead," Clyde says, "I'll have someone else take over here." Hotch almost feels guilty to leave, but he was an extra anyway. So, there is no holding him back. He walks over to the paramedics.

"How is she?" he yells to gain attention despite the noise that is still ear-piercing.

"Alive," one of the paramedics responds. That's all that counts. There are three groups of people. Dead, slightly injured and possibly seriously injured but alive. They only save them and carry them out of the danger zone. There is no time left for more. There are too many others waiting to be rescued.

Hotch gets on the ambulance with her.

Alive...

He listens to the sirens and watches Emily's battered body on the stretcher as they speed through the streets of London.

* * *

**Thursday**

It's a miracle. There is not one broken bone in her body, not one serious internal injury. Of course, she has bruises, lots of them, in fact. And she still has trouble breathing due to the rocks that pressed on her lungs for hours and caused a lung contusion. The doctors are confident, though, that it will get better soon.

She is sleeping most of the time because of the shock and exhaustion. When she wakes up in between, Hotch is there. Always. Sometimes reading, sometimes holding her hand, sometimes sleeping, but always there. They opened the airport again, and he could fly back to Washington. After he consulted his sister-in-law, Jessica, who takes care of his son, the BAU team and Strauss, they all agreed, though, that he could and should stay. As long as it takes.

Sunrise. Sunset. The hours elapse, and each time Clyde stops by to check on Emily and keep him updated, Hotch is aware that they are more than lucky she survived. Many others didn't.

* * *

**Friday**

Emily is awake now most of the time but still weak. The doctors come and go as well as her colleagues. There is no private sphere, and Hotch and she agree without further talk that everything else has to wait until they are alone.

Hotch goes to the hotel to shower and change his clothes but comes back immediately to continue his usual routine of just being there even if she tells him to sleep in his comfortable hotel bed instead. In response, he only argues that the armchair in her hospital room is much more comfortable than any car seat he slept in on his numerous stakeouts.

He falls asleep in the much-more-comfortable-than-any-car-seat-armchair, and it doesn't look comfortable at all. His back will hurt when he wakes up. It probably already hurts because it is the third night in a row he is sleeping here. Even in his sleep, Hotch stretched out one arm so that he touches hers. Emily watches him, his rugged features, how peaceful he looks in his sleep, and it is the first time that she allows her feelings to come to the surface. The painkillers keep her constantly dazed, but there is a surge of emotion beneath. Everything that happened is too much to come to terms with at once. It will take a while. To survive an assassination right after Hotch asked her to marry him... If this isn't a stroke of fate, then what is? Silently, she allows some tears to fall, still looking at him.

"I love you," she whispers before she closes her eyes and also falls asleep.

An almost imperceptible smile appears on Hotch's face. Perhaps he heard what she said; perhaps he is already sound asleep and dreaming. Then again, there is nothing that she said he doesn't already know.

* * *

**First the proposal, now the love confessions. Never did that in a story before but somehow felt like it here.**

**I hope the mixture of suspense and romance balance each other in a good way.**

**Next chapter: Hotch is still waiting for an answer... ;)**

**Thank you for reviewing.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Hey, guys, this is the final chapter, and it is all about the emotions. I guess I never have written something as close to a tearjerker as this before, but I loved to write it, and I really, really hope that you will love reading it just as much.

Thank you for your amazing support and your kind reviews. I hope I responded to everyone with an account personally. Since I can't do that when a guest reviews – let me at least give you a shout-out: Jo, Aelpharose, AB & everyone who simply reviewed as "guest". Your reviews also made me very happy!

Please note: The italics in the second part (Sunday) are flashbacks. I guess it's pretty obvious. That's why I didn't label them explicitly as flashbacks because I think it's easier to read this way. Just so that you keep that in mind.

**Disclaimer:** Criminal Minds is a wonderful show, but unfortunately I own nothing except the idea for this storyline. Otherwise, exactly THIS would happen on the show this season.

* * *

**Saturday** (two weeks later)

They are strolling through Hyde Park. It's a sunny, albeit chilly, day, and many people make use of the last rays of sunshine before the London fall will take over, and there will be predominantly rain and mist.

Ten days ago, Emily was released from the hospital. Her breathing problems slowly but surely have been getting better, and she is almost fully recovered. The doctors recommended another couple of days off but didn't insist on prolonging her sick note. Therefore, she will be back at work on Monday at her own request. No one who knows her is surprised at this, including Hotch, who wasn't able to talk her out of it either.

_Back at work_ means a provisional office because the old building has to be torn down. Interpol is looking for a suitable new headquarter in London. Such things take time, though, and are not the highest priority currently. They still don't know who planned and carried out the assassination; there was no claim of responsibility. Although nothing else happened so far, safety precautions will remain on the highest level until the investigation is closed. Emily wants to be a part of it, and Hotch gets that.

All the more, he is torn between his wish to remain at Emily's side in a potentially dangerous situation and the need to be with his son. He left Jack almost three weeks ago; the child never has been separated from his father for so long. From the phone calls, Hotch knows that Jack misses his father as much as he misses his son. Thus, it's a choice between the devil and the deep blue sea. He will lose either way. It doesn't matter though. The decision was made. Emily and he talked lengthy about it and eventually agreed that he will fly back to Washington tomorrow. Emily more or less insisted on it. Hotch is well aware that she would have argued differently, if he didn't have a child. During their discussion, he sensed that she actually didn't want him to leave although she never said so, and he respects and loves her even more for putting her needs on the back burner in favor of his son.

The impending goodbye overshadows the beautiful day. They avoid everything that points to the obvious, namely that their contact during the next days and weeks will be reduced to phone calls and internet chats. Something else they discussed at length. Emily's offer still stands – she is trying to be transferred to the States, preferably to Washington. She even already talked to Clyde about it, who is very understanding and cooperative after he made sure that this is not an overhasty reaction on her part due to post traumatic stress. A transfer will take a while though. Highly remunerative jobs like hers are rare, and Hotch practically forbade her to accept any job just to move near him. He wants her in his life every day, not only every few weeks for a weekend, but not at this price.

They sit down on a bench, and Emily clings to him. It surprises Hotch anew again and again how easily they fell into this new routine as lovers. The love-making is great, of course, but passion is a natural companion during this early phase of a relationship. Somehow, he always knew the physical part would be like this – fulfilling and wonderful, that they would be a match. He has to admit, though, that he was uncertain about the emotional part, about their ability to bond, since they are both essentially headstrong and withdrawn. Who would have thought that reality proves him wrong on a daily basis. In retrospect, he has no logical explanation why they have been waiting for so long, wasting years in the process.

"What will you miss the most?" Hotch hears Emily mumble, her head leaning against his shoulder, and he knows immediately that she is talking about the time when he will be back in Washington.

_Your smile_, he wants to say first, but there are so many things he will miss. Her smile, her infectious laugh, her scent that lingers on the bed linen, his clothes, his skin even. And there is more, so much more. Her voice, her touch, simply the knowledge that she is there. He isn't able to pick just one thing.

"You," he answers instead, hoping that it doesn't sound too indecisive or rather possessive, but the flattered snort she makes in response reassures him.

"And you?" Hotch asks in return, feeling her body tense.

Emily sits up, and the smile vanishes from her face. Hotch is irritated. What is wrong with his question? She just asked him the same.

She shows all the signs of inconclusiveness, maybe even embarrassment, as he watches her looking down at her hands, fiddling with her nails, an old habit she actually quit, obviously pondering on whether to tell him what is crossing her mind right now or not.

"I will miss the most that you won't be there anymore when I wake up from a nightmare," Emily finally admits, and Hotch flinches. This hurts, and she knew that it would. That's why she hesitated to tell him.

"I'm sorry," she adds. "I didn't... When I asked you, I didn't consider what I... But it's the truth..." Her unfinished, stuttered out sentences make him one more time aware how fresh and raw her wounds are. And he doesn't think of the bruises that cover her otherwise flawless skin. It hurts enough to see those. The invisible wounds, the scars of her soul, are much worse though. Hotch can't even begin to imagine what it must have felt like to be buried alive, not knowing when, or if at all, she would be found. They attended several funerals during the last two weeks. Colleagues who didn't make it, who weren't found in time. It could have been her. Hence, the nightmares are really bad. She has them every night, wakes up screaming, whimpering or crying, the memories so present that her subconsciousness has to deal with it this way. Emily rarely shows weakness, but these moments, the twilight zone between sleeping and being awake, between the nightmare and reality, leave her utterly vulnerable. Hotch aches at the thought that she has to deal with these moments alone in the days and weeks to come.

He grabs her hand and feels her tremble due to the effort to keep her emotions under control. "Promise to call me when it's bad," he says even if he knows that the worst moments will be already over when she will be able to think clearly enough to use the phone and call him.

His words seem to soothe her, anyway. "I will," she promises without hesitation. "Don't worry." She catches his concerned glance. "It's not the first time that I deal with something like this alone." They both fall silent, remembering how she was declared dead and had to recover on her own from her life-threatening injuries, far away from the BAU team and him.

Of course, there is a psychologist at Interpol she can consult whenever she feels the urge to do so. In fact, a few sessions are mandatory to prevent PTSD. Standard procedure. Yes, it is not the first time in her life, Emily has to deal with a situation like this. Hotch wonders, though, if this is her breaking point. He can't endure the mental picture that she may break down completely this time, and he won't be there. Then again, most likely she won't. She is strong. He tends to forget that now that they are so close, his overly protective attitude in overdrive.

"You may be alone in your apartment here," Hotch admits reluctantly, "but you are not alone. Bear that in mind. Always."

Emily squeezes his hand and nods.

"I know," she confirms, but her sad voice tells another story. He will be gone tomorrow. They will both be alone.

* * *

Hotch's suitcase stands packed in the corner. After Emily had been released from the hospital, he kind of moved in with her. It simply didn't make sense to keep the hotel room any longer.

They stayed outside at the park until nightfall and then had dinner. Now they are lying in bed together, cuddling and dozing, enjoying the emotional and physical closeness after they made love with relish. The knowledge that it was the last time for many weeks to come made it even more special. Neither of them wants to fall asleep because the next time they wake up they will have to say goodbye, and the mere thought hurts.

"Aaron," her drowsy voice catches him right on the edge of falling asleep no matter how much he tries to avoid it. The situation is too comfortable.

"Hm..."

"Do me a favor and close your eyes," all of a sudden, she doesn't sound drowsy anymore. Anyway, this is a strange request.

"Emily, it's already dark in here," Hotch replies accordingly, wide awake again.

"Just close your eyes, please." As if he could deny her anything. Therefore, he closes his eyes.

It is not pitch-black in the room. The street lamps bath everything in a dim light, and he can recognize her contours. Nevertheless, Emily doesn't even make an effort to check whether he really closed his eyes, her head lying cozily on his bare chest. She just knows that he did it because she asked him to. It is a rather insignificant, albeit weird, request on her part, and what he did seems to be equally unimportant. Yet, it has a deeper meaning. The way they respect each other, trust each other. They've come a long way, and now, that they've added love to the mix, Hotch can't imagine anything that will be able to break them apart. Ever.

"Take a look at the future, at your future," Emily doesn't say _our_ future, and he doesn't know whether she did this accidentally because she is sleepier than she sounds or on purpose. "Let's say... ten years ahead. Tell me what you see."

Ah... so, she did it on purpose and wants to hear whether his imaginary future includes her.

"Let's see...," Hotch starts, "I see Jack..." He senses her laugh more than he hears it, her lips tickling his skin. She knows that he knows what she is asking and that he is teasing her.

He pauses and then continues, "I see a park, and I see us sitting on a bench together." As they did today. Aside from their impending goodbye that overshadowed the whole day, the picture of them sitting on the bench together is something Hotch plans to hold on to in upcoming moments of loneliness. It was so calm and familiar that it almost was too good to be true. Then again, Emily told him about her fears to face her nightmares alone on that bench, and that made it just imperfect enough to be perfect, to be the real thing.

Emily lifts up her head to look at him, and Hotch opens his eyes when he feels the movement. He can't actually see her face, but somehow the light of the street lamp is reflected in her eyes that seem to sparkle with intensity.

"Yes," she says after another quite long pause, and at first, he doesn't understand.

Only when she comes closer and kisses him gently, it finally sinks in.

"Yes," Emily repeats, wanting to make sure that he _really_ understands what she is telling him here and now. "I want to marry you."

It's not as if Hotch forgot about his proposal, but after the assassination, after she almost died, after everything, he didn't mention it again. Yes, they agreed at the hospital that they would talk about it later in private. He also had promised her, though, that he would give her time to think about it, that he wouldn't push her, and Aaron Hotchner sticks to his words. Thus, he made a deal with himself not to mention it unless she would since she had, once more in her life, a lot to come to terms with, and she didn't mention it – until now.

"Well, don't you want to say something?" Emily asks, pretending to be daring although Hotch hears the insecurity in her voice. Emily Prentiss doesn't give her heart away easily, and she for sure doesn't decide to spend the rest of her life with solely one person on a daily basis. Hence, she deserves an answer. A good one. One to tell their friends and perhaps even children and grandchildren. Hotch remembers how he asked her to marry him, how the spontaneous proposal slipped out, followed by some not quite appropriate words. And somehow, he can't think of anything better to say as a response, hoping that she will catch the meaning.

"Never mind," he says smiling before he pulls her even closer and kisses her again and again and again. She is smiling, too. Of course, she remembers.

"There's one more thing," Hotch whispers between their kisses, suddenly becoming serious again, but Emily interrupts him before he can say what she assumes he wants to say. Despite the dim light, she recognizes the look on his face, saw it many times during the last days. It was always followed by the same words.

"Yes, I know," she says. "I love you, too."

* * *

**Sunday** (one year later)

Sometimes it's worth it. The struggle, the inconveniences, the uncertainties. Sometimes it's all just worth it.

* * *

"I take you..."

* * *

_It was 3 AM when Hotch's phone rang. He felt for it and answered it before he was even awake. At that unearthly hour, it could only be the BAU or her. Most of the time it was her, but, thank God, the nightmares had become fewer in the recent weeks – at least the really bad ones when she called him afterwards._

_Nonetheless, he was immediately alert to the worst when he saw her name on the display._

"_Em, honey, are you all right?" Basically, the question was futile. Of course, she was not. Otherwise she wouldn't call him in the middle of the night. It was the first thing, though, he always said to her. These six words exactly. Each time._

_This time, however, she sounded calm and composed. Not as if she just had woken up from a nightmare._

* * *

"To be my wife..."

* * *

"_We've got him, Aaron," Emily's voice shook with barely suppressed excitement, "the man who fired the bomb." For several months, the investigation had been concentrating on the theory that it was a lone perpetrator. The fact that they eventually caught him was a huge success._

"_That's great." It was. Well, it also would have been great news the next morning, after a couple of hours more sleep, but it was great news here and now, anyway._

"_But that's not why I'm calling," she added, the excitement still in her voice. "Well, it is, but I have even more good news."_

* * *

"I promise to be true to you..."

* * *

_For a brief moment, Hotch almost expected her to tell him she was pregnant, almost wanted her to tell him that. Then he remembered that they use contraceptives. On the other hand, it could have happened, nevertheless. They had seen each other last five, no, six weeks ago. Whereas seen might not be the correct term. They didn't leave her apartment or rather her bed. One of the best weekends they ever had. A snowstorm in London. What better reason to stay inside._

"_Aaron, are you still there?" _

"_Yes, of course." He had to pull himself out of the sudden reverie of her skin against his and was suddenly very eager to hear what else she had to tell him. At the other end of the phone, he heard her take a deep breath._

* * *

"In good times and in bad..."

* * *

"_They've got a job for me in Washington. Clyde told me today, and I didn't want to wake you only because of that, but then we caught the guy, and this feels like fate telling me everything is going to be fine, and I just had to tell you right now...," she was rambling and took another deep breath. Hotch almost couldn't believe it. They had been waiting for so long. He almost had put up with the fact that their complicated situation would last several more months._

"_Only because of that?" he repeated her words incredulously, aware that his agitated voice gave his feelings away. Hotch always had assured her that he was fine with their long-distance relationship. Yet, of course, the truth was that he couldn't wait to have her here. "Emily, this is wonderful news. I'm so glad you woke me up. When?"_

* * *

"In sickness and in health..."

* * *

_T__here was a longer pause, and he heard her breathe fitfully._

"_Four to six weeks," she eventually replied, her voice a little scratchy as if she had been crying but didn't want to admit it. She was tough, wanted to be that way. Some things would never change. All the same, the emotions were almost too much too handle. For both of them. They had been waiting for so long..._

"_It's barely enough time to find a replacement for my current job and to see to... whatever has been done," she was rambling again. Actually, all she needed were a few suitcases with her clothes and her personal stuff. She didn't need a new apartment in Washington. She would move in with Hotch. They had had some dry runs on the weekend with his son, and they wanted to give it a try. All three of them._

"_I really wished I could touch and hold you right now," Hotch interrupted her ramblings, and this time, she didn't hold back the tears anymore. It was okay though. They were tears of happiness._

* * *

"I will love you and honor you..."

* * *

That was six months ago. They had waited half a year to receive the good news that Interpol had a job offer for her in Washington, and another six months have passed since then. Plenty of time for her to move back to the States and start the new job that turned out to be as challenging and fulfilling as the one in London. Plenty of time for them to organize a wedding and let it all fall into place. The pieces of their new life.

* * *

"All the days of my life..."

* * *

After the vow and the kiss, they party and dance. They are all there. The whole BAU team. Back together. Closer even than before.

As it seems, every ending is, indeed, a new beginning.

Yes, sometimes it's definitely all worth it.

* * *

The end

(...and they lived happily ever after)

**As I already said – I absolutely loved to write this story, especially this final chapter.**

**I hope you enjoyed it, too, and I would really appreciate it if you left a(nother) review.**

**Thank you so much. Love you, guys!**


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